


here and where you are

by aceun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chapter 400, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Post-Time Skip, furudate: you didn't connect shit, me watching akaashi exude proud husband energy this entire match: i've connected the dots, me: i've connected them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceun/pseuds/aceun
Summary: Eight years later, he has yet to find a star that shines brighter.[Akaashi watches the Jackals vs. Adlers game.]
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 27
Kudos: 195





	here and where you are

**Author's Note:**

> i think about chapter 400 every day

The crowded gym roars to the unmistakable sound of a ball slammed on the other side of the court. Cameras swivel to catch the aftermath as the announcers sitting on the side rush to comment on the play, voices overlapping, carrying over the cheers, their excitement tangible through the loudspeakers. Keiji can almost feel the floor tremble beneath his feet. 

So this is the energy of a Division One match. 

Beside him, Udai waves around his rolled-up pamphlet as a makeshift cheering stick, every trace of workplace exhaustion fled from his face. Keiji hasn’t seen him this animated since the last time their department went out for drinks, definitely before this latest deadline crunch dug its heels into his dark circles. Between his shouts of surprise and amazement, Udai seems to be having trouble deciding whether to sit down or leap to his feet. 

Keiji would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel the same. He glances down at his own pamphlet, reminding his eyes of the reality of the bolded, blocked letters announcing the title:

MSBY Black Jackals vs. Schweiden Adlers. 

In the days leading up to the match, panelists on sports channels have declared it to be one of the most anticipated matchups of the season. And so far, every second on court has proved their words to be true. 

The whistle blows, and Keiji focuses on the court.

This is a gathering of monsters, opponents, friends, rivals. 

Teammates. 

With a fierce smile on his face, Kageyama aims his fifth serve of the day flying towards Hinata. 

And Hinata, matching him grin for grin, receives it perfectly. 

Keiji shivers with the weight of history on the court. The lineup is unbelievable, like fate has been pulling strings— Ushijima, Sakusa, Hoshiumi, Miya, Kageyama, Hinata —these players who have crossed paths since high school, middle school, some even before. These players who have for years fought side by side and across the net, in practice matches and on the national stage, competing in training camps and summer camps and every minor encounter in between. These players who are now playing like they have a promise to keep, to their fans, yes, but most of all to each other.

_ How lucky _ , Keiji thinks,  _ to be a witness to history both being made and relived. _

And then there is Bokuto.

There, flipping and tumbling onto court with gymnastic flourish.

There, leading thousands of spectators in a synchronized clap for his serve. 

There, frozen mid-flight in perfect spike form, back arched, muscles tensed, elbow pulled back, the very air around him holding its breath, poised for the plummet. 

Keiji remembers the first time meeting Bokuto. He remembers how Bokuto’s spike was the first thing he saw stepping into that high school gymnasium, and how everything went still and quiet in his mind, the shock of it like being splashed in the face with cold water. For a moment, his movements slowed to molasses speed, and in the split second before contact, Keiji looked at this total stranger and saw potential, power, and pure joy for the game shining from the inside out like a solid, golden core. 

The sound of the ball hitting the floor was deafening. 

Eight years later, he has yet to find a star that shines brighter. 

Pride surges in his chest now, making him grip his pamphlet even tighter, and he unconsciously leans forward in his seat, as if that could bring him just a little bit closer to where Bokuto stood. Out there, on the court. Home where he belongs. 

There was a time when the thought of Bokuto hitting anyone else’s sets would have made Keiji sick with grief. Years of aching behind closed doors, keeping his jealousy and secret pining under close watch, making sure it never broke the surface of his calm expression, where it would be seen and become a burden. From the moment he first met him, he knew that Bokuto was headed for the top, and Keiji had always been practical. He knew that one day there would come a time when he could no longer keep up. When his 110% would not be enough to stay by his side. 

When that day came he promised himself that he wouldn’t hold him back. He would see him off with a smile. 

_ But let me have this,  _ Keiji had thought, sometimes after practice, when sweat and fatigue and the sight of Bokuto’s wet bangs sticking to his forehead made his brain sputter and short-circuit.  _ If I can’t have him, let me have this. For however long I’m able.  _

Keiji allows a small smile for his past self, someone who still hadn’t broken out of the habit of suffering quietly by himself. 

_ You were watching him so closely,  _ he chides softly. _ How could you have been so blind?  _

His hands drop the pamphlet in his lap as he brings his fingers in front of him in an echo of the familiar quirk he’s had since he was young. Only now, instead of threading them together, he twists the golden band around his ring finger. 

Change and constancy. New habits and old. It's curious how the people we love have a way of returning to us in different forms. 

Keiji is no longer a setter, and Bokuto is no longer his teammate. 

He is his husband. 

“You’ve been smiling this whole match, Akaashi-kun,” says Udai’s voice, shaking him out of his thoughts. “You can’t be that certain the Jackals are going to win, not when the match is this close?”

Udai’s eyes, struck with a mischievous glint, dart pointedly down to his hand. 

“Or is it just confidence in a particular player?” 

Keiji, fiddling with his ring, only smiles wider. “Whatever the outcome of the game, seeing Bokuto, I feel like I’ve already won.” 

“Good god. Never-mind. It was my mistake for asking a newlywed.” 

Keiji laughs at the expression on Udai’s face before turning back to the game, eyes immediately searching for Bokuto. He truly meant what he said just now, and not entirely in a lovesick manner as Udai interpreted. 

He wonders how to articulate the feeling in his chest when he sees little kids wearing Bokuto’s jersey, painting his number on their cheeks, declaring him their role model. 

“Winning feels inevitable next to a protagonist,” he explains, watching as Miya Atsumu crouches low for a quick set that Bokuto, already at the peak of his jump, immediately slams home. “Like impossible plays and happy endings.” The crowd roars. Bokuto high-fives his teammates and flashes his trademark ‘Bokuto Beam’ towards the stands, arms stretched wide in ceremony. 

Keiji continues without turning away. “Even the losses become a part of something much bigger. It’s about the ability to look forward.”

In his mind, flashes of Bokuto’s intense expression rise to the surface of his memory. The night before their last high school match. The conclusion of its final set. Sharp, brown eyes that always looked dead ahead and nowhere else. 

“It’s like the protagonist is the personification of hope itself.” 

Keiji doesn’t have to look at Udai to hear the smile in his voice. “Akaashi you…. You actually like working for the manga department, don’t you?” 

He accepts the tease with a light laugh. 

“A star is a star no matter what,” he says, “no matter who’s watching.” 

The Bokuto surrounded by cheers on the court is the same Bokuto who just yesterday burned the frying pan making eggs. The same Bokuto who accidentally caused a power outage for their entire apartment block, and, when Keiji’s deadlines ran late into the night, the same Bokuto who pressed sleepy kisses to his neck and cups of coffee to his hands. 

Keiji smiles, fond. “But still, isn’t it nice when everyone can see?” 

“Everyone is seeing him now,” Udai agrees. He pauses. “And even more will see him in 2021,” he adds, with the calm surety in his voice that only comes out during work, when he’s defending a particular plot point to his editors or explaining a character’s motivation. 

Keiji imagines Bokuto in the red of the national uniform, representing the country of Japan on the world stage, and his breath catches in his throat. Bokuto will always be reaching for higher and higher heights from which to shine.

And now, Keiji will always be by his side.

The warmth of this certainty beats solidly in his chest. Next to his Bokuto. His Koutarou. For as long as he burns, until the last light in the universe fizzles out. 

_World, are you watching?_

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: kitaeun


End file.
